[ The problem - or one of them - is that Ephemera doesn't know what he wants. He ought to. It ought to be simple. Bash Felix's head against the wall and make him shut the fuck up. Sure, okay. Why the fuck not? It'd be textbook, clockwork, the expected thing. Even now, Ephemera can't say why he held back. Why he left the sketch and not more violence in his wake. It wouldn't have lasted even if they did manage to kill each other but it would have made sense.
This doesn't. ]
then fuck off.
[ He's going to get drunk. That bottle of tequila from work is about to become his new best friend. ]
no subject
This doesn't. ]
then fuck off.
[ He's going to get drunk. That bottle of tequila from work is about to become his new best friend. ]